These are the first lines that 'had me at hello' in December of 2008.
If you'd told me at the beginning of sophomore year that I was going to end up a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you'd told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked.
Tell me about the fire.
Some girls have journals. I talk to my poster.
The decoder card to the universe wasn't included in the box of cereal God gave humanity.
Junior year was supposed to be all about Brian Harrington, the prom, and becoming editor-in-chief of the Crestview Courier. Instead it was all about handcuffs, hormones, and headlines. But in a good way. Not in a skanky way.
There they were--the worst words in all of the English language, scribbled in my mother's perky handwriting. "Let's Talk."
© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews